


rumor has it

by jadeddiva



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Let's pretend everything after 3x9 is a lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeddiva/pseuds/jadeddiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are nightmares preventing her from sleep and a pirate haunting her waking hours, so excuse Emma if she’s not up to speed on the latest gossip about her love life from Granny’s diner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rumor has it

**Author's Note:**

> Because someone *coughs* prompted 'Storybrooke Rumor Mill' and I had fun with it :)

**rumor has it**

_Ruby_

Some days, Emma knows, you just need to embrace the certain knowledge that one cup of coffee isn’t going to be enough.

She finishes breakfast with Henry at Granny’s and when Ruby asks if she wants a to-go cup, Emma agrees.  “Make it two,” she adds, because she’s absolutely exhausted and has a stack of paperwork to get through (and despite his best efforts, David makes absolutely horrible coffee and she just can’t, not this morning, not even with her father’s feelings on the line).

Henry’s already out the door when Ruby returns with Emma’s two coffee cups in a cardboard drink holder.  “I didn’t know if he wanted cream or sugar, so I added enough of both,” she tells Emma, gesturing to the small paper bad tucked into an empty crevice.  Emma frowns.

“I think David usually drinks it black,” she says, confused, and Ruby just winks at her.

“Right, _David_ – not sure if that’s my type of kink but to each their own,” Ruby tells her.  “Enjoy your day!”

Emma is completely flabbergasted by the exchange, her mind turning it over and over as she walks to the station.  She sips on one coffee, consumed by her thoughts, until she can see a familiar black shape approaching from a distance and then –

Was Ruby talking about _Hook?_

Emma pulls a face, which makes Hook stop when he draws near.

“Don’t look so happy to see me, Swan,” Hook tells her and she shakes her head.

“Not in the mood for you, Hook,” she responds, and he falls into step beside her.

“Aye, that’s for sure and true.  What’s wrong, Emma?” 

The fact that it’s Hook that asks her what’s wrong when everyone else she's seen today has ignored the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep tells wonders about the world she lives in.  Not even Henry asked her if everything was all right, and she is starting to suspect the only person they know her to be is this disgustingly sad individual who frowns all the time.

“Nothing,” she tells him, brushing it off but he persists.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing to me,” he responds, and she stops with a loud sigh.

“I haven’t been sleeping well since Neverland.”  The truth leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, because she wants nothing more than to leave that wretched place behind and yet it lingers in the dark corners of her mind only to become active while she sleeps.

“Aye, I’ve had that problem as well.”  The look that Hook gives her is genuine concern, and she appreciates his care. 

“So how do you fall asleep?” she asks, and he smiles.

“Well, my lady, I find that it is easier to sleep when one is physically exhausted – a task I am more than willing to help you accomplish.”  There’s that lurid tone and the way that he licks his lips – deflecting with flirtation, something she’s noticed him do far too often (and if it stirs any thoughts inside of her, any ideas of her own, Emma tries desperately not to make it obvious).

“I’ll just make do with the coffee,” she says, raising her cup.  The grin on Hook’s face falters slightly yet he still manages to look smug, and underneath that smugness there’s an absolute exhaustion that Emma recognizes and knows all too well.  Regardless of what he tells her, he’s fighting the same demons that have possessed them since they left that wretched realm, and -

“Here.”  She gives him the other cup of coffee.  “When you finish, let me know how much cream and sugar you take so I tell Ruby."

“And why would the serving girl need to know?” Hook asks, taking the cardboard container with a strange look on his face.

“Because she thinks the coffee is for you, so it might as well be,” Emma responds.  She takes another sip of her brew. 

“If this is for David – “ Hook protests, but Emma shakes her head,.

“It was for me, but maybe you’re onto something – maybe sheer exhaustion is the only way I can escape those nightmares and two cups of coffee would only keep me up.”  She smiles.  “Thanks, Hook.”

She leaves him and the in her wake, and it’s not until she reaches the station that she regrets giving him the extra coffee because David’s is so bad and weak that she finally caves and orders a Keurig from Amazon.

She’ll deal with her father’s heartbreak another day.

...

_Leroy_

Emma makes it up to David by taking him out to lunch at Granny's the next day.  He doesn’t seem too upset about her ordering a new coffee machine once she elaborates on all the cool things it can make like hot cocoa and hot cider, and he starts to muse if maybe they should get one for the loft (yes, they most definitely should). 

Midway through lunch she sees Hook enter and take up a seat at the counter, and she brushes her fingertips against her face.  She knows there are bags beneath her eyes even if David doesn't say anything about it. 

When David excuses himself to use the restroom, Emma is not at all surprised to see Hook slide into his vacant seat.

"Thank you for the beverage yesterday, Swan," he says.  "I suppose that you slept better last night, as you predicted you might?"  His eyes are bright blue in the dim light of the dinner, and she stutters before she speaks, caught up in the earnestness of his gaze.

Emma shakes her head. "No, I didn't."  It's not even nightmares as much as it is the absolute feeling of dread, of waking up terrified that Henry is gone forever (but she doesn’t tell _him_ that, because she doesn’t tell anyone that, because they’re so used to her being sad and pained that any additional burden she carries goes by unnoticed.)

(Or, at least, unnoticed by everyone but _him_.)

Hook looks concerned at her admission and she watches as he clenches and unclenches his hand, stretching the fingers out towards her before pulling them back into a fist.  She wonders if he would reach for her if he thought she would accept his hand.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Emma."  And she knows he is, because he is always sincere when it comes to her.

"Yeah, well, it happens I guess," she tells him as Ruby approaches. 

Hook looks up at the waitress with a smile. "Coffee, darling, with one cream and one sugar," he tells her with his shit-eating grin of his, and Emma doesn't need to look at Ruby to know she's smirking.

“I’m never going to live that down.”  Hook quirks his eyebrow and looks at her curiously.

“And is there a problem, Swan, with being associated with me?” he asks, an edge in his voice that wasn’t there a moment ago, and she’s caught off guard.  She shakes her head but before she realize it, David’s on his way back from the restroom and sliding into her seat.  He is eager to talk to Hook, and they linger far later than originally intended as Hook and David discuss random and sundry matters over coffee.

Emma excuses herself while the newly-minted BFFs enjoy their bromance, heading to the bathroom to check on the dark circle situation.  On the way back, she over hears Leroy and Ruby talking.

“They’re totally together – she bought him coffee yesterday,” Ruby tells the dwarf as she refills his coffee.

“First the Dark One’s son now a pirate – I’m sure her mother’s pleased,” Leroy says grumpily (yeah no shit, that guy sure had issues with his attitude) and Emma wants to smack the wall beside her.  Bringing Neal into the conversation was definitely not the way to make things any easier for her, especially when she was dodging him just as much as a good night’s sleep is dodging her  and she’s really losing it now, isn’t she?  First a lack of sleep and then letting the Storybrooke Rumor Mill get to her. She sighs.  Let them talk – none of it’s the truth anyway.

“Let’s go, deputy,” she tells David as she approaches the table, hands in the pockets of her coat.   As her father takes the bill to the register to pay, Hook stops Emma.

“Let me know if there’s any way I can be of service, Emma,” Hook tells her.  “I know better than others what it’s like to be haunted by that demon land.”

“What are you going to do, Jones?” she asks, taking a step closer to him than necessary, spurred on by her frustration about rumors and lack of sleep and she notices he seems to be surprised that she uses his real surname, not his moniker.  “Volunteer your skills to help me get that sleep I’m sorely lacking?  Thanks but no thanks.”

She brushes past him, shoulder nudging against his own, and is out the door before David can catch up to her, before Hook can call out her name.

It is only later, in the dark hours of the night when sleep refuses to come, that she regrets what she did.  It was cruel of her to say that when all he’s ever offered to her is help (and a good lay, but that’s something she doesn’t want to think about too hard). 

She’ll apologize in the morning.

…

_Archie_

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” Emma calls out from the gangplank, leaning against the railing of the _Jolly Roger._   Hook looks at her warily from the other side of the boat, and she bites her lip because she knows she deserves any and all scorn he could possibly give her as well as any snide remarks he may throw her way.

“And why would a lady such as yourself have need of a pirate?” he asks.   He looks back at the rope he was coiling, and Emma grips the rail harder, feeling the wood press against her palm.

“I’m sorry I was an ass to you.”  She looks down at her hands, then back at him.  “I know you only have my best interests at heart.”

Hook stops coiling rope, nods at her words.  “And mine own, lass.  Don’t forget that.”

She can’t forget his confession in the Echo Cave even if she wanted to, can’t forget the feel of his lips against hers as she pulled him closer, the heat of the jungle barely hotter than the heat between them.   She can’t forget it even if she tried because there’s a truth in his words that rings true in her soul, if she lets herself the time to see it.  They’re a pair, the two of them; he oscillates between sincerity and lechery the same way she shifts between vulnerability and harshness, and both of them are so adept at keeping other people away that she wonders if either of them will let the other in.

“Maybe you were right about physical activity,” she says, and he drops the rope in surprise before she adds, “Put me to work on your ship, Captain.  Pretend I’m your first mate.”

“Permission to come aboard, Swan,” he tells her, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, “but please don’t ever ask me to picture you as my first mate again.” 

“Oh?” Emma asks, sauntering towards him.   “And why not?”

Hook smiles at her, roguish and eager, and leans closer to her.  “Because a first mate is actually expected to follow the captain’s orders and we both know you’re incapable to following directions.”

Emma rolls her eyes and smacks his shoulder lightly, enjoying how pleased he seems at their exchange.  She is too, and she ducks her head before looking back up at him.

“All right, so what are we doing first?”

Emma spends the day climbing all over the ship, helping Hook with his chores.   She learns much about the ship from him and the day passes quickly and easily in his company – and most of all, she enjoys every single minute of it, because every single minute with him does something to her.  It lifts her heart and calms her soul and at the end of the day, as they stand side by side and watch the sun set, her limbs burn pleasantly from exertion and she feels as if sleep is a foregone conclusion.

Hook passes her his flask and she takes a sip from it, allowing the rum to burn its way down her throat.  “Thanks for your help, Emma,” he says to her, and she smiles at him in response.

“Thanks for letting me help – and for helping me.”  He takes the flask back from her.

“That’s not guaranteed yet,” Hook cautions, but Emma shrugs. 

“I guess we’ll see.”

It’s getting dark and cold and she’s got Henry for the night, so there’s dinner to be made and homework to be checked.  She turns to leave but stops for a moment, studies Hook’s face in the fading light.  He’s let her spend all day on his ship all for the sake of her own needs (and his innuendos were kept to a minimum, too, which must have been a great deal of work).

She’ll blame it on exuberance later as she closes the distanced and kisses him.

He seems startled but leans into the kiss, which is chaste and easy and quick, and when she pulls back Hook blinks twice, slow smile on his face.

“You certainly do know how to thank a man,” he tells Emma with a wink, and she just shakes her head and heads towards the gangplank only to find Archie walking Pongo down by the docks.

“Hey Emma,” he calls out to her.  “Are you on your way home?”

“Yeah,” she responds, grateful for the company even if she keeps pressing her fingers to her lips and as a therapist he probably knows what that implies, because he makes polite conversation for three blocks before he finally asks her about Hook.

“Are you and the Captain good friends?” he asks her, and Emma shrugs her shoulders and answers, “Yeah, I guess,” before she can stop and think about it and determine if what he means is actually something else entirely different.

But she lets the difference hang in the air between them, decides it doesn’t matter what he thinks or what any of them say at Granny’s because there’s nothing to be ashamed of.  It’s her life, and she’ll live it in whatever way she sees fit.

She says goodbye to Archie on Main Street, walking home in silence and thinking about the kiss.  Sleep comes easily that night but doesn’t stay, and her dreams are full of moments where she is kissing Hook and moments where it is him she is looking for to no avail.  She wakes up terrified that she has lost him, only to find the space beside her empty, like always, because he is not hers to lose.

…

_Neal_

Emma thinks about their second kiss all day, and for the day after that and the day after that.  She thinks about it as she drives through town, as she fills out paperwork, as she picks up lunch from the diner.  She thinks about it when she’s in the shower, fingers creeping of their own according lower than they should, and she thinks about it when she allows herself to daydream for seventy-million times about driving back to the dock and taking him up on his ridiculous offer.

She dreams about losing him every night, and that is why she does it, in the end, because the thought of him being lost to her forever makes her wake up in a cold sweat, goose bumps on her arms and fear in her heart. 

Well, she drives back to the dock and lingers on the deck of his ship before finally knocking on the cabin door and descending into his cabin.

Hook is reading a book in the warm glow of candlelight, and he looks surprise to find her there. “To what do I owe the honor? It’s dark out so you can’t possibly be here for any sort of exercise.”

“What if I am?” Emma asks, quickly.  “What if that’s what I’m looking for?”

Hook puts the book down slowly.  “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, love.”  His tone is carefully neutral, his expression carefully guarded, and she swallows back her fears and launches into an explanation.

“You’re the only one who knows something’s wrong,” she tells him.  “Everyone else just assumes I’m the way that I normally am – grumpy and bitter and sad – and I’m not.  You’re the only one who can tell something’s wrong and you’re the only one that can make it better.”

He looks down at the table, and then back at her. “I’m sure they would if you told them, if you – “

“I want this,” she says.  “At least, I want to see what this is.  Whatever is between us, it’s the easiest thing I have going for me right now and I want to see what it can become.”

Hook stands at that moment.  “I hardly think that would make things easier between us.”

“But what if it did?” she asks.  “What if it can?  I’m tired of dreaming about losing you every night –“

“Emma.”  He comes so close that she can reach out and touch him and she does, cupping his face in her hands.  He leans his forehead against hers, breath mingling with her own.

“Why do you dream about me?” he asks softly, and she sighs.

“Because I don’t want to lose you, and because all my dreams since we’ve come back are about losing someone – first Henry, now you.”

“You won’t lose me,” he tells her fiercely.  “You’ll never lose me.”

“Prove it,” she challenges him.  “Prove to me that I have nothing to be afraid of.”

He closes the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that is fiercer than their kiss in Neverland, burning her from the inside out.  His hook presses into her back and he draws her close, lips plundering her mouth (of course Emma would consider sex with him in pirate metaphors, of _course)_ and she kisses back with a fervor she didn’t know possible, something she’s never felt before.  There’s desperation in how she kisses him because she doesn’t want to lose him, doesn’t want to lose _this_ , whatever it is and whatever it could be.

He pulls back, she bites his lip, he lifts her up onto the table, hand sneaking under the hem of her shirt to massage one breast, then the other.  She wraps her legs around him, pulling him flush against her.

His hand leaves her body and his hook clatters onto the tabletop behind her.  Emma opens her eyes to find him looking at her with desperate eyes, face flush and lips kiss-stained.  She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close to her.

“Show me what you got, captain,” she whispers in his ear, biting the lobe (he shudders under his hands and she decides this was the best choice ever).  He laughs, deep and husky, before lifting her up and depositing her on the bed.

“Be careful what you wish for, my lady,” he cautions her.

What he has is a talented tongue, which he uses to trace patterns across her flesh.  He lingers on the curved undersides of her breasts before teasing her, drifting lower towards her stomach, pressing a kiss below her naval.  He bites the inside of her thigh before torturing her at her most sensitive part, drawing her closer with hand and mouth while she grips his hair in her hand and lets go of everything.  She can’t tell if it’s the boat rocking or her body as she falls once and then twice and then maybe a third time - they all blur - together before she pulls him upwards and sucks an angry bruise onto that ridiculous collarbone of his (he groans at the contact and Emma decides she loves the way that it sounds, would suck a matching bruise on the other side if that wasn’t when he slips into her easy as Sunday morning). 

Hook kisses her forehead, her nose, her eyelids, rocking into her, picking up the pace and dragging her lips towards his for a kiss.  She feels drunk on him, limbs heavy and sated already as he kisses her like he’s telling her he loves her (he does, she knows he does and it excites and terrifies her all at once).  She hooks her feet around his waist, drives him forward with the press of her heels, comes a final time before he decides to join her, her name a final blessing pressed against her neck.

She sleeps easier that night in his arms, and when she wakes with a start to think he’s no longer there, that he’s lost to her in the jungles of Neverland, he soothes her with gentle words and his very presence.  She falls asleep curled against his chest.

Emma wakes at dawn, feeling better than she has in some time, and dresses wearily, sad to leave him here.  He wakes with her, and watches her from the bed.

“That wasn’t a one-time thing,” she lets him know before he can ask, and Hook smiles lazily before reclining back on his pillows.

“So it did work,” he tells her with a proud grin, and she threatens him with a book thrown straight at his head, but damn if she isn’t smiling too.

“I guess you were right.”  Emma zips up her coat.  “Want to grab dinner at Granny’s later?” she asks.

“It would be my honor, my lady.”  Hook smiles back at her, and she wonders if she needs to start calling him Killian now, if they’re going to be a thing.

It’s on her way down the gangplank and on her way home, where she’s sure to get raked over the coals by either one or both of her parents, she runs into Neal.

“Hey,” he says, trying so hard to be casual and failing miserably (because she is too).  “Your parents were wondering where you were.  I figured…”

“Yeah, you figured right,” Emma tells him.   “I’m going home now.”

“I’ll walk you.”  Neal falls into step beside her and Emma has never understood the title ‘walk of shame’ more than she has in this very moment, because it’s not that she’s been with Hook all night but rather that she’s got Neal escorting her home to parents that sometimes forget she’s a thirty-year old woman with a kid and a job and she takes a deep breath, exhales slowly.

“So are you two an item now?” Neal asks.

“Is that the rumor?” Emma responds, and Neal nods. 

“Yeah, it’s the rumor,” he tells her, “but I never listen to that stuff, so I’d ask you.”

Emma nods, shoves her hands in her pockets.  “And if the rumor were true?” she asks, because the rumor isn’t entirely true – they’re something but what they are isn’t obvious, because things like this aren’t obvious at first – but there’s truth to be found in it if you squint hard enough.

“It’s your life, Emma, and as long as you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”

She smiles because for the first time in a long while, she’s happy.

She stays happy when she walks into the diner that night to find Hook waiting for her, changed out of his leather clothes into something resembling contemporary fashion.  And as she slides into the booth, under the watchful eyes of all participating members of the Storybrooke rumor mill, there’s a smile on her face.

“You look better than you have in a while,” Hook tells her with a wink.  “Getting sleep?”

“A fair enough share, Killian,” she says, calling him by his first name and making him choke on his water.  “It helps when I follow your advice.”


End file.
